


Weather the Storm

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-16 01:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3468764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Choosing what to do with his own life is a new concept to Fenris, but he's ready to make a clean break from the life that he once carried as chains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weather the Storm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kylenne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kylenne/gifts).



Even after months on the ocean, Fenris hadn't quite managed to get his sea legs entirely under him. He did much better than when he first joined Isabela's crew, but he still found himself feeling a little green around the gills, leaning against the railing when a particularly powerful wave rocked the ship and made her groan around them.

The cutting laughter made him right himself, standing with his back straight and his shoulders squared. He wouldn't be a joke to them, or a source of entertainment; if they wished to find amusement, let them do it elsewhere.

The wind stirred his hair at the nape of his neck, longer since he'd taken to pirating. He hadn't had the opportunity to have it cut, and he wasn't sure he wished to be rid of it. There was a certain symbolism in keeping his hair long, when Danarius had always ordered him shorn; with the man dead, there was a strong feeling of freedom in feeling his hair brush his shoulders.

And there was another reason, not quite as symbolic but just as important; Isabela loved his hair long and found it impossible to keep her fingers from the tresses.

What better reason could there be?

Speaking of the woman, there she walked, strutting across the deck and shouting orders at the men and women rushing around her.

When she saw him, her face softened with and smile, and she moved to where he stood, lovingly wrapping a lock of platinum hair around her finger. "I hope you're not slacking off," she said, with no real insistence that he move from where he was. "I'd hate to have to take you below deck and discipline you."

"I'm sure you would," Fenris chuckled. " _Captain._ "

As much as Fenris hated the sea, he'd hated the thought of being left behind even more. When he'd agreed to join her, he thought he would be miserable, clinging to the railing and trying to keep his supper down, but actually he found the constant noise and laughter and swearing comforting. He wasn't alone, and that was still surprising, even months later.

And as much as he hated the sea, he loved watching Isabela come to life when she sailed. There was more joy in her eyes and voice, a lightness to her steps, a feeling when he looked at her that she'd finally come home.

_Home._

If there was a sweeter word, Fenris had never heard it.

"Silver for your thoughts," Isabela said, leaning in close to him and snapping her fingers playfully in front of his face.

Fenris blinked, unaware that his thoughts had been drifting. "Ah, sorry," he said. "I was just---" When Isabela moved to draw her hand back, Fenris caught sight of the new ink on her forearm and gently took her wrist to examine the mark. A mermaid swam, resplendent in blues and greens, with flecks of gold flashing in her tailfin. Fenris smiled, tracing his fingers over the tattoo with almost reverential softness.

"You like her?" Isabela asked. "I had the idea for her a few weeks back and I couldn't resist. It's silly I know, but I'm calling her Lyana, she's a goddess of the sea, you know and---Oh."

Fenris touched his lips to the tattoo, kissing up her arm and peppering her shoulder in quick, hot kisses.

Isabela laughed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him tight against her body. His voice was muffled against her throat, and Isabela was enjoying the feel of his breath so much that she didn't even realize he'd asked her something until he pulled back and repeated himself.

"What?" Isabela asked. She was a little breathless, her head a little cloudy with desire, and she could tell by his patient smile that he didn't mind repeating himself a third time.

"I was wondering if you could give me one," Fenris said. "If you don't mind?"

"One of what, sweetheart?" Isabela asked, feeling a little silly that she couldn't quite get the feeling of his lips off of her skin. "I'm happy to give you anything you want."

Fenris laughed, taking her wrist and turning her arm so her tattoo was in the sun. "One of these," he said. "Not lyrium breasts like you suggested before, but---"

"You want a tattoo?" Isabela asked. 

"Yes," Fenris said, shifting on his go feet uneasily, suddenly very aware of himself and self conscious of what he wanted. "I only... I thought there was something... Poetic, about it, I suppose. Choosing my marking."

Isabela smiled gently, and took his hand to fold her fingers through his. "I think that's a wonderful idea," she said. "Do you know what you want?" 

He matched her smile, though his was a little shy. 

"I have an idea," he said.

****

The wind stirred his hair, pulled back now in the favor Hawke had tied about his wrist years earlier. The saltspray of the sea wasn't as oppressive as it had once been, and he rather enjoyed the feel of the mist on his face and the smell of the air when he breathed in deeply.

At the nape of his neck, where Isabela loved to kiss and touch, his tattoo was kissed by the sun as he leaned his head forward and looked out over the water.

A chain of ink was broken into pieces, shattered and left to rust. The symbolism was heavy, but he didn't care. He was free to make his own choices, to mark his skin, to grow his hair to the small of his back, or whatever other whim might take him.

_He was free._

And he was free, in no small part, because Isabela had given him the strength to tear at his chains until they broke. That her hand had been the one to ink his skin and break the links of dark ink was poetic justice.

That was why, in between the severed links, her name was written in looping letters.

Her lips touched her own name, her body leaned against his as the sun set against the sails.

Home and freedom were very pretty words.

But her name tasted sweeter when he whispered it against her lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for elfyourmother on tumblr~ I love her dearly and she's been having a very rough go of things lately, so I thought I could do something to make things a little easier. <3


End file.
